#stopppable

@journalingfreak @justrobynhood @cryptiicus @thefastestflyer @stopppable @lcvthcrhcvd @twistedmelcn

SEND 💋  FOR MY MUSE’S REACTION AS YOURS STARTS KISSING THEIR NECK: ACCEPTING

             They were being impulsive – and why shouldn’t they be? High school was over, their caps and gowns left behind at home in the haste to get to the party on the beach celebrating the accomplishments of the senior class. And if that wasn’t enough of an excuse, saving the world from an alien invasion picked up the rest of the slack; none of which would’ve happened without Shego and Drakken and, most notably, Ron. 

             She owes so much to him – he, who is her best friend, her number one, her partner-in-crimefighting, her boyfriend, her SOUL MATE – he’s been there for every bump, every bruise, every mishap and loss and victory in her life to take place since she was four and nothing and no one could replace the permanent place he holds in her life and in her heart. He is her rock, the one person she can share everything with, and she’s so damn lucky to have him in her life that there are only so many words in the english language that can adequately articulate exactly how in love with him she is. 

             She fills in the gaps with kisses, languid at first yet growing increasingly more passionate as this melts from seconds to minutes. They’ve long since parked the car on a patch of land removed from the populated shore; it’s a detour (or so, that’s what she’s telling herself when she knows it’s the opposite). Her fingers thread through sunny blonde hair as his arms wrap around her waist and pull her in closer. She could stay in this moment forever if it were possible – here, where he’s safe and warm and familiar. They’ll have a full summer together before college forces them down separate roads, but they’ll be back together soon enough. Nothing like distance is enough to sever them completely; galaxies couldn’t keep them away from each other, she’s sure of that much. 

                  His lips break apart from her own and her hands slip at the back of his head; she’s about to ask what’s wrong, caught between concern and the impulse to steal another kiss when he pressed one to her cheek, to her jaw, to the soft spot of skin behind her ear – he doesn’t stop there. A low hum builds in her throat as slow kiss after slow kiss is peppered on her neck. His moves are calculated, strategic – as teeth graze lightly over the crook of her neck, whether accidental or on purpose, she doesn’t bother holding back her seal of approval.